


there's always a choice

by deanwstories, randomfills (spnfanatic)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Dark, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Whump, Dean Winchester-centric, Desperate Sam Winchester, Fae & Fairies, Faeries - Freeform, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Obsession, POV Dean Winchester, POV shifts, Protective Sam Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season 3, Slavery, dean winchester's deal, extension of the lore on fae, loosely inspired by the episode 'clap your hands if you believe', set before 'dream a little dream of me', set before 'mystery spot'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwstories/pseuds/deanwstories, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills
Summary: A/U to season 3. Sam has been desperate for a solution to Dean’s deal coming due in just a few months now. When the boys catch a case where weird things have been happening to the local townspeople in a small town in Indiana, he thinks maybe making a deal with a rogue fae could be the end all solution they’ve been looking for. Except it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple. They may have bitten off too much for them to chew this time. And Dean ends up paying the ultimate price, especially when one of the fae takes a little too much interest in him.Written for FirstWave
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s), Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 72





	1. has to start somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter. I'll be working on the second chapter soon! :)

_NOW_

Dean shivered in his dark, damp cell. He was huddled in the corner of the small room, hugging his knees close to his chest. It was cold in here. He was wearing only a pair of boxers. When they brought him in here, they had him strip off his leather jacket, the only thing of dad’s he had besides the Impala and the cassette tapes, the tee shirt that was underneath, his jeans, boots and even his goddamn socks. They then practically threw him into the cell and locked it back up, before leaving. 

He had been in here, alone, ever since. He had no idea how long it had been since they even took his watch. It could have been hours. Maybe almost a day. He had time to doze off into a light nap. He gripped the amulet that was still, thankfully, around his neck. The same necklace Sam gave him when they were kids.

He was glad they didn’t strip him of that at least.

Just as he was about to nod off again, he heard the faint sounds of footsteps. They were getting louder, closer. Dean tensed when a man (if that was even what he was), stepped out from the shadows, holding a large, intimidating looking gun, a weird mixture of a rifle and something out of a B rated sci-fi movie. He stared impassively down at Dean, his blue eyes cold, “Get up. It’s time for you to face the court.”

Dean had no idea what that meant but it sure as hell didn’t sound good. He rose to his feet slowly, ignoring the chill in the room. With the gun trained on him, he knew better than to try and fight. Especially when he saw at least two more armed men as he got closer to the door. He was outnumbered and outgunned. And when they brought him here, sedated with some kind of drug that he was sure was still pumping through his veins, he’d hardly been in any shape to stand, let alone fight. He could still feel it, whatever it was, and he was struggling to even put one foot in front of the other. He swayed slightly as he waited for the man to open the cell door.

Once the door was wide open, he gestured for Dean to step out and in front of them. As soon as Dean maneuvered himself to the front, he was shoved forward with the barrel of the gun. Dean froze for a moment. “Come on, kid. Don’t want to keep the king waiting too long. I hear he can get pretty testy.”

_THEN_

“So get this. Fortville, Indiana. Population of about four thousand. There’s been over a dozen reports of people seeing, uh, really strange stuff,” Sam said, clearing his throat as he scanned the rest of the article on his laptop.

Dean looked up for a brief moment from cleaning out his guns. “What kind of strange stuff?” He went back to tinkering with the colt, being extra careful as he wiped it down. It had been one hell of an asset, probably their _most_ useful in their large and ever growing array of weapons. 

“Well, that’s the thing. I mean, it sure is pretty strange but like, in that ridiculous, science _fiction_ way, you know?”

“What are you trying to say, Sam? Like alien abductions? Spotting Bigfoot in the woods? Or seeing the Loch Ness monster in the middle of a lake? That sort of thing?” Dean asked, setting the colt to the side, before turning his attention to one of their handguns. 

“Uh, kind of. Some of the reports are claiming alien abductions, but there are a couple who claim to see, and I quote, ‘little, chubby men, that look like lawn gnomes staring at me through my window’.”

“Huh,” Dean said, putting down the gun he was wiping clean. He looked back up to see Sam had turned around and was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to say something more. “That does sound pretty weird,” Dean said finally.

“Yeah. There have also been a few missing person cases reported,” Sam continued. “What do you think? Should we check it out?”

Dean looked back down at the gun in his hand. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him still. Sam had taken to watching Dean closely since he’d made the deal to bring his brother back. It’d been annoying but Dean had learned to ignore it for the most part. But as the due date came closer, just a few more months now, he became even more hyper vigilant and hadn’t missed how Sam would tense whenever the subject was brought up or when Dean was being extra reckless. He’d complain whenever Dean made a stupid, self deprecating joke, or when he talked about what Sam would have to do when Dean finally croaked. But that wasn’t what bothered him. He expected Sam to make a fuss. Of course he fucking did. Dean was going to die soon and Sam was going to have to learn to live without his big brother. If they had switched places, and it was Sam who was going down under and Dean was forced to live without him, you fucking bet Dean was going to kick up a storm. Because the thought of Sammy going to hell instead? Being tortured for all of eternity? Fuck. Dean couldn’t even think what he’d do. He wouldn’t.

No, no, the problem wasn’t Sam’s less than ideal attitude to Dean’s impending death. It was when it all seemed to stop just a couple weeks ago. Like when he came back with a bag full of bacon cheeseburgers and fries and a large coke the other day, Sam just eyed him disapprovingly but didn’t say anything. Then he’d have a slice of pie for breakfast the next morning. Still nothing. It was kind of weird and awesome at the same time because usually his brother would complain up a storm about his diet.

Then the hunts started back up, and that wasn’t unusual in and of itself, but it was almost nonstop. Once they finished one hunt, they took maybe one day to recharge, before Sam was on his laptop, scouring the internet for weird shit to look into. Dean would be all over this new Sam if the circumstances had been different. 

Because hunting had always been something Dean loved. He wasn’t sure exactly what part of the hunt that really attracted him to this lifestyle. Sure, saving people had always been a huge reason he’d taken up the mantle when dad died. But truthfully, it was more than that. A small part of Dean had probably always been attracted to that underlying sense of danger, the thrill of figuring out what creepy ass lore was killing people in some small, unknown town. 

But Sam...well, he wasn’t like Dean. He didn’t live for the excitement of hunting down whatever evil was in the next town over. He hunted to save people, sure, but he didn’t want to hunt. He hunted because he had to. He felt obligated to. The family business had been passed down to him and Dean and he couldn’t figure out how to get out once and for all, so he was stuck.

So it was weird, damn weird, when they started hunting almost nonstop. Dean could usually enjoy a day or two of sight-seeing, hitting up whatever local diner or bar was nearby, get laid maybe, but now it was like Sam had turned on some kind of terminator mode that Dean didn’t even know his brother had.

And what was weirder was that he was deferring to Dean without putting up a fuss. And that...well, Dean knew something was up. Because letting Dean take the lead on every hunt now, no arguments, that went against every fiber of his being. Sam was the fighter, the rebel. He always had been. He’d fought with dad. Fought with Dean even. Fought tooth and nail when he thought he was right about something. When he didn’t want to do something. Dean could fight as well. But he was usually the more grounded one.

He looked back up at Sam, trying to gauge what he was up to. But there was nothing. His face was relaxed and he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Well?”

Dean sighed and said, “Yeah, sure. Let’s go check out the garden gnomes, Sammy.”

Sam’s lips quirked in a tiny smile, “Make sure they’re not coming to life and eating people?”

Dean found himself chuckling and shaking his head as he stood up. “Yeah. Something like that. I’m sure the HOA wouldn’t be too thrilled in seeing half eaten bodies just laying on people’s front lawns,” he joked.


	2. it just keeps getting stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been really excited to continue this story actually. Thanks for the interest, guys! And really. Thank you so much for the prompt, FirstWave. I'm sorry it took me so long to get around to writing this.

_NOW_

Dean found himself stumbling forward as the guy with the large gun prodded him again. “I’m going, I’m going,” he grumbled, trying hard to concentrate on walking, even with the drug working through his veins making a usually simple task rather difficult. 

_Come on, Winchester. You got this. Right foot first, then the left. Rinse and repeat._

It took a couple rather embarrassing attempts to get his legs to work properly without the threat of falling down, but eventually he managed. Bracing against the wall, Dean grudgingly walked through the dimly lit hallway. The cold air brushing against his bare skin made him visibly shiver. The sound of mocking laughter bounced off the walls, and Dean could feel his face flush at the humiliation of being stripped down into nothing but his boxers as he was led through the narrow corridors of whatever this place was - honestly it looked like the bottom level of a medieval castle, where they kept the dungeons. 

They passed by cell after cell, most were empty, though a couple had people in them. Dean tried to ignore them as they passed by, but then they got to the last cell at the very end, just in front of a set of stairs, and he couldn’t help himself. He looked inside. Instantly, he regretted it. There was a boy inside, sitting on a cot in the far back corner of the room. Dark, brown hair and pale skin. Way too scrawny, like he hadn’t been enough in his lifetime. Tall probably, with long legs. _Sammy_ , Dean thought for the briefest of moments. Oh god. Kid reminded him of his younger brother when he was a teen. He imagined Sam’s hazel eyes staring back at him on a weary, ashen face. 

_No, don’t think that, Winchester_ , he thought desperately. _That’s not Sam. Sam’s grown and he’s back in town looking for me._

The kid was bouncing his knee, still not turned to face his onlookers. Probably hadn’t even noticed or didn’t care. His gaze was studiously looking down to the floor. Dean couldn’t see his eyes very well, even though part of him was torn in wanting the kid to turn around, desperate to be proven this was most definitely not Sam. But another part was content with never seeing his face, because what if it was Sam? 

What if Sam had been captured too? 

But no. No, that wasn’t possible. This kid was too young to be Sam. And his hair was a little too short. 

Unless whoever kidnapped them cut it. But _why_ would Sam be taken? 

What would they hope to gain in taking Sam?

Then again what would they hope to gain in taking _Dean_?

And exactly _who_ are they?

“Alright, kid, come on. Told you before, the king doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Actually, none of them like that,” the guy with the gun said, roughly shoving Dean forward.

Dean nearly fell to his knees. He grabbed hold of one of the bars of the cell, catching himself just in time. He was about to turn around and curse the guy out, when the kid finally noticed the commotion just outside of his prison and looked up. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Blue. His eyes were blue. The lifelessness in those eyes would come to haunt his dreams later, but for now, all he could do was breathe a sigh of relief.

Definitely not Sam.

He let them push him up the stairs. The heavy footsteps of Dean and his armed entourage echoed through the darkened passage. 

_THEN_

“Thank you for your time Miss Heart,” Sam said politely as the older woman nodded and shut the door after he and Dean walked down the stairs. 

“Another bust, huh?” Dean asked as they headed back to the Impala that was parked on the side of the streets. He grimaced as he adjusted his tie again. Fuck. He really hated pretending to be the FBI, but it was easier to get information this way now that they had fake badges and Bobby was willing to play backup when needed. He unlocked the Impala and opened the door to the driver side. He turned to see Sam sigh, leaning his elbow over the roof of the Impala. 

“This whole town…” Sam trailed off, couldn’t even finish that thought without a head-shake.

“Is completely bonkers,” Dean supplied helpfully. “Man, honestly thought you were joking about the whole alien abduction thing.”

Sam snorted, “I wish.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, both thinking the same thing.

Why in hell did they even take this case?

Finally Dean sighed and rubbed the side of his face tiredly. This whole case didn’t make sense to be honest. “Who’s next on the list?” he asked as they both climbed in. Dean started up the Impala and peeled out as Sam took out a folded piece of paper with a list of names he’d written down earlier that morning.

“A man named Leon Farcher,” Sam said. He frowned as he read over the notes on the guy. Dean glanced over briefly, not liking how his brother had gone quiet and was just staring at the paper.

“What about him?” he prodded.

“You’re not going to like it, Dean,” Sam told him, still staring down at the paper.

Dean didn’t like it when his brother started anything with ‘you’re not going to like it’. Because Sam was always right. But he hated the suspense even more. He tapped on the wheel impatiently when Sam still didn’t say anything during the drive out of the neighborhood. “I hate waiting even more,” he grumbled as they hit a red light. “Just spit it out, Sammy.”

Ignoring the hated nickname, Sam just sighed and said, “Okay. Look, so he’s one of the, uh, guys who reported seeing uh, you know...those little men that look like lawn gnomes just walking around in front of his house and uh, staring at him.”

“Of course,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. The light turned green, and they drove to a nearby diner. It was bad enough just talking to the lady who believed her brother in law had been taken by aliens. Now they had to talk to some delusional dude who thought his garden gnome had come to life to have a creepy ass staring contest with him in the middle of the night? He was really beginning to hate this town. “So we get to talk to more crazy.”

When he glanced back over to Sam, at least his brother had the decency to look a little apologetic. “Sorry, Dean. You agreed to take this case up. And we have confirmed people have been going missing for the last couple months now with the local police, so even if it isn’t actually alien abductions, there’s something real here,” Sam said.

“Yeah, but it might not even be anything supernatural. Could just be some creep human behind the abductions,” Dean pointed out as he looked for parking. He found one after circling the parking lot once.

“Except no force entries, no struggles, a bright beam of light. We just spoke with Eileen Heart, and I’ll admit, she seems a bit adamant in believing in extraterrestrials taking her brother, but she was _with_ him. They were sitting on the couch when it happened. She fell asleep watching a movie with him. A ‘bright light’ woke her up. She opened her eyes and her brother who was just there was gone. Just up and disappeared.”

“Okay, but she didn’t exactly see it. She was asleep. It could’ve been a dream. She was in a daze, Sam,” Dean argued. “He could’ve gone out for a drive. Crashed at a friend’s or relative’s.”

Sam sighed as Dean killed the engine and they both got out of the Impala. “But his car was still in the driveway. His keys were on the kitchen table. Even you've got to admit, this whole thing is really, freaking weird.”

Dean shrugged as they headed up to the diner. Honestly Sam was right. This whole case did give Dean some weird vibes. His first impression upon hearing the reports had been the trickster. But they killed the trickster. So that couldn’t be a possibility. Unless…

“Alright, alright. So the guy might’ve been abducted by _aliens_ ,” he said, putting air quotes on the word aliens. He watched as Sam narrowed his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. It still seems far fetched to me. I mean, come on, Sammy. We know the supernatural exists. We see stuff like werewolves and vampires and ghosts all the time. But _aliens_? There’s lore on them, sure. Supposedly they’ve always existed. But no one's ever had proof. But…” He held up his hand when Sam opened his mouth, looking ready to argue. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to totally rule out on something supernatural going on in this town. Because you’re right, the abductions and the weird light being seen, that’s probably not caused by a human," he admitted.

Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “What do you think then?”

Dean’s lips quirked into a tiny smile, “Maybe 'aliens'...or a trickster.”

Just as Dean thought, his brother’s reaction was immediate. At first Sam just looked puzzled, his brows furrowing as he digested what Dean said. Then he said, “That’s impossible, Dean.”

“Is it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. We killed the trickster. Remember?”

“I didn’t say _the_ trickster, Sam,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I said _a_ trickster.” He watched as Sam frowned. “Think about it. There’s got to be more than just one trickster in the world. And...causing people to think their loved ones are being taken by aliens? Making people see lawn gnomes walking around? Come on. Tricksters live on chaos. They thrive on it. And this town, well...” 

“Huh,” Sam said as he mentally worked through Dean’s explanation. “That actually sounds plausible,” he said after a moment.

Dean just smirked, opening the door. A part of him took a little glee in being able to stump his little brother every once in a while. Just because Sam was the one who went to college didn’t mean Dean was a complete moron. Out loud, he said, “Alright, enough of that. Let’s grab some burgers already. I’m starved.”


	3. what's going on, Dean Winchester?

_NOW_

The stairs seemed to go on forever. By the time they finally got to the top, Dean felt exhausted. It probably didn’t help that he could still feel the drugs in his system. His vision blurred for a moment and he had to lean heavily on the wall or else he’d fall over. He felt someone touch his back briefly, and Dean froze. He could feel every muscle in his body tense as the touch lingered. “This is a really bad time for a nap, kid,” the guy, whose name Dean still had no idea of, said from behind him.

Dean was getting really sick of the guy’s use of ‘kid’. He was almost thirty for fuck’s sake. “I have a name, you know. It’s Dean,” he snapped, twisting around to see the man smirking at him. “And don’t fucking touch me.”

The man leaned in closer so that Dean could smell hints of cologne, and whisky. His blue eyes bore into Dean’s. “We know who you are, _Dean Winchester_ ,” he said, “but we can call you whatever we want.” Then before Dean could even think on how to respond to that, the man reached out to grab his arm, and jerked him back. Dean tried to twist out of the man’s grip but he was too strong, and Dean was too uncoordinated. He would have tripped over his own feet and fell on his ass if the man hadn’t been holding onto him. He tried to jerk his arm back, but the man maneuvered him around so that Dean was pressed back against him, his right arm twisted painfully behind his back, trapped between them. The barrel of the gun shoved under his chin. The man leaned his head forward to whisper in his ear, “I don’t think you understand the _full_ extent of your predicament, _Mister_ Winchester. You don’t call the shots here. You’ve been brought here for one purpose.” Dean didn’t like where this was going. “You see, you’ve pissed off some very powerful beings, and we’re on our way to attend your _trial_.”

Oh shit.

Dean swallowed. “My...trial?” he asked, ignoring the barrel pressed hard into his skin. He was sure, like eighty percent, that the guy had no intentions of blowing his brains out. If that had been in the plans, then they’d have put Dean out of his misery ages ago. Plus, the asshole said that he pissed off ‘some powerful beings’, which, interestingly enough, he didn’t include himself into that group. He decided to file that little tidbit for later. But for now, well, this was really worrisome. It meant his kidnappers were of the supernatural category, and not crazy humans. So fucking not good.

The man seemed to take some kind of perverse pleasure in Dean’s growing discomfort and agitation, wincing at the ache and pain that was slowly building up in the arm that was currently twisted behind him. His arm was jerked higher and he gasped. He heard him chuckle into his ear, “Yes, _your_ trial. And between you and I, Mister Winchester? Humans who are brought to be judged...well, they don’t usually live to tell the tale.”

Dean was very much screwed.

_THEN_

“Okay, uh. Wow. That guy was actually telling the truth,” Dean said in awe as he stared through his binoculars at Farcher’s darkened lawn. They had talked to a man named Leon Farcher right after lunch just to get his statement, and almost word for word, Farcher told them what he wrote in the report. Three little chubby men liked to run around his front yard late at night, usually from midnight to three am. He caught one staring at him one evening when he decided to stay up late to watch a movie with his girlfriend, El. She had gone to sleep that night, when he had caught something outside the window out of the corner of his eye. When he turned around, what was staring back at him could have come straight out of an 80’s horror movie. A stubby man with a red pointy hat and a large nose, his skin pale, wearing clothing that practically draped around him like a blanket, had been staring at him.

“ _And those lack, beady eyes_ ,” Farcher had said, a shudder running through him as he recounted the horrifying experience. “ _That was the worst I think. It was like they were staring straight into my soul, you know?_ ”

“ _That...must have been very terrifying for you, Mister Farcher_ ,” Sam had said in that kind, patient voice he saved for the victims. He patted the man on his shoulder a little awkwardly as Dean reached for his mug of coffee.

“ _Yeah, yeah it was. I was so shaken practically the whole night. Still am_ ,” he said, stretching out his hands to show them the slight tremor. “ _See?_ ”

Sam nodded, his face morphing into sympathy. “ _Would you like to take a break, Mister Farcher? I know sharing this isn’t easy for you. And perhaps my partner and I can take a look around the property?_ ”

“ _Of course_ ,” the man nodded, standing up and walking to the kitchen. “ _You’re welcome to look anywhere on the property, agents._ ”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Sam said gratefully.

They both stood up, ready to examine where Farcher claimed he saw the gnome like men. One disappointing hour later, they weren’t able to find anything out of the ordinary. No EMF activities. No strange smells. Nothing that looked like the land had even been disturbed, both in the front or back.

They had decided to come back and stake out the house at around midnight to see if Farcher had really seen something supernatural or he just made all that stuff up.

Dean handed the binoculars over to Sam after a moment of staring at the creature that Farcher described earlier. No way was that thing human. That was a freaking garden gnome come to life. Or...an illusion caused by a trickster.

“What do you think, Sammy?” he asked.

Sam set the binoculars into his lap, and looked back at him. He looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Dean reached over to pat his brother on the shoulder, his face completely serious when he said, “Yeah, man. Me too.”

They stayed in the safety of the Impala for another ten minutes, watching with morbid curiosity as the creatures ran around the yard. There had to be at least three of those things just darting around, doing flips and cartwheels and giggling as they passed each other. At one point, two of the creatures even high five each other. Dean leaned against the window, already getting kind of bored, trying to decipher what their ulterior motive could possibly be. Just watching them play around the yard, with seemingly zero interest in even trying to enter the house, Dean was reminded of watching kids play in the park. This had to be the weirdest case he and Sam had taken yet.

“Should we, uh, try and go up to them?” Sam asked finally. 

Dean looked over at his brother. Sam’s gaze was completely focused on the scene outside. He frowned, weighing the pros and cons of getting out of the Impala and taking a closer look. The biggest was that, he knew the things knew they were watching them, he’d seen them glance over at the Impala a few times but none of them made a move towards the brothers. Dean had no idea what they were or what they wanted, but if they had any ill intent, then wouldn’t he and Sam be dead by now?

Dean sighed. _Famous last words._

But damn it, he was curious. He felt around in his jacket for the colt. Just in case. “I feel like this is a really stupid idea, but sure, let’s go.”

Sam finally turned to look at him. He grinned. “I’ve indulged in worse.”

_NOW_

The trial took place in some kind of huge stadium, or colosseum. The corridor they’d been in connected to a trap door just outside of the entrance to it. There were already hundreds of people, or what looked like people from afar, lining up to enter. It wasn’t until they got closer that he noticed the long, pointed ears and mesmerizing golden eyes and small, beautiful symbols that seemed to have been tattooed onto their skins that he realized that these were not humans. Some were elegant in the way they were dressed, long flowing, brightly colored gowns, or expensive looking suits with gold embroidered on the edges, reminding Dean of the elves from the Lord of the Rings series (that Sam forced him to watch one slow night at a motel). He tried not to gawk, really he tried. But it was hard, because he’d never seen anything with such ethereal beauty before. Even the waitresses at the diners that he and Sam stopped at to grab a quick breakfast, while they’d been pretty, they still had those human flaws like maybe a small acne on their face, or maybe a couple crooked teeth when they smiled. Something easily noticeable but Dean had been able to ignore with years of practice and an attitude that showed he didn’t care as much about appearances as long as he got laid. But here...it was so easily noticeable that these things, they weren’t human. They weren’t held back by the imperfections that riddled a human body.

As he was herded into the colosseum none too gently, he could feel the gazes of hundreds of these otherworldly beings trained on him. Dean stumbled forward, lowering his head so that he was studiously looking at the ground. He could hear the faint murmuring in the crowd looking down at him, and he suddenly remembered he was nearly naked as he stood in the middle of this large arena, feeling like he was an animal in a zoo. He could feel his face flush, wishing the ground could just swallow him now. And god, for the life of him, he wished he could remember what he did that could piss off these guys. The last week was a little fuzzy. Though he had an inkling. He was a hunter, after all. And he and Sam had been in town for a reason. That was obvious.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have more time to try and figure out what was going on, because suddenly the chatter died down and the colosseum became eerily quiet. He heard the faint sounds of footsteps and Dean looked up just in time to see a man (no, not a man) walk up the large stage to a white podium. Dean’s breath caught as he studied the man. He was tall, probably taller than Dean. His hair was silver and long, pulled back in intricate braids. He had a beard that was decent in length but looked just as cared for as his hair, also in braids. He was dressed in nice looking clothes that were embroidered in gold, a red cloak draped around him. A golden crown rested on his head. 

Two more men walked up the stage. They were both wearing similar clothing, though they looked younger, much younger than the first man. They stood on either side of him. Dean knew, just by watching them carefully, they were related. They were family.

The man standing to the right shifted a little, and stared right at Dean. His dark brown eyes seemed to pierce into Dean’s soul. Dean swallowed. He didn’t like that look. Then he looked away, turning his gaze to the crowd that had started to chatter amongst themselves again with excitement.

“Welcome! Ladies and Gent and Fae of all kind,” the man’s voice echoed through the colosseum. “I have gathered you here today to commence our monthly trial! As you can see, our special guest today is none other than _Dean Winchester_.”


	4. trial by fire

_NOW_

“I am sure some of you may be wondering what is so special about this human, while others may have already heard the rumors. Let me be the one to confirm that the rumors are true. As your king, you know that I would not lie to you about something as serious as this. This human, before us today, killed one of our own in _cold_ blood,” the man told the raging crowd. Dean froze. Killed one of these things in cold blood? Sure, he hunted monsters, it was his fucking job, but usually it was because they had been hurting people. He didn’t make it a habit to go and shoot random things for the sheer pleasure. It wasn’t a sport. “You may have heard of these humans going around and killing ‘monsters’. They call themselves hunters. This human, Dean Winchester, is one of those _hunters_.” The chattering in the crowd started to grow in volume. Dean clenched his hands tightly into fists. His nails pressed hard into his palms. 

To stand here and be judged by a bunch of monsters, no matter how beautiful...it irked him. Yeah, he was just a lowly human. But how dare they sit back with judgement in their eyes just because he put down a few monsters that were eating or murdering his kind. Just because these beings had more power than humans, they thought they could do whatever they wanted without _any_ repercussions?

“As you all know, a crime this great is punished by either a lifetime of indentured servitude or a swift death. The guilty party usually has the choice. But this crime has been committed by a human, and we only give out death to them,” the king said.

Dean swallowed down his anger. So...what? He didn’t get a say in this? Some of the crowd started to chant, “Death! Death! Death!” What the fuck? Was this really how it was going to end for him? He was going to be put to death by a bunch of stupid fairies?

He glared at the monsters around him. Dressed in elegant clothing, surrounded by such ethereal beauty, and yet their excitement seemed to only grow as they continued their barbaric chanting, their eyes filled with glee. The thrill of killing a human that wronged them somehow was visible on their faces. Dean felt sickened. He cleared his throat and looked the king in the eyes. “So. What? You get to pass judgement on me without even hearing my side of the story? I don’t get to defend myself?” Some fucking trial.

The king tilted his head, considering. “How could you possibly defend _murder_?”

The word really pissed Dean off. It was murder when a human killed one of them? But what about when a human got eaten? ‘Hey, sorry, but everyone’s got to eat.’ Or how about when a monster killed a human for sport? ‘Woops, should’ve run faster. It’s a cruel world. Survival of the fittest, you know?’ He schooled his face into the impassive mask he’d used many times when facing cops. “What if it was self-defense?” he asked, racking his drug addled mind for some semblance of it being true. His gut feeling told him he was right. That something had gone wrong on the hunt he and Sam had been on. 

The king looked at him a moment, trying to find a hint of deception. But the longer Dean thought about it, the more confident he grew. Whatever happened, it wasn’t his fault. He stood a little taller and met his gaze head on. The king must have seen the renewed conviction in his eyes. Still, he looked at Dean skeptically. “Self-defense? How can it be self-defense when one of my kind would never hurt you humans?”

Dean could feel his anger building again. “How can _you_ be so sure that your kind wouldn’t want to hurt us humans?”

There were a few jeers from somewhere in the crowd but Dean ignored them. He had to stand his ground. “Maybe you should get off your high horse and look around you. Sure, there are a lot of us violent humans, but there’s a lot more violent monsters. Some of us, humans, became hunters for a reason. We didn’t all just wake up one morning and decided to hunt shit down for the hell of it. We don’t hunt for sport. Like what kind of fucking sane person goes out to seek things that want to kill us? Some of these things, they sure as hell ain’t pretty as you guys. But that doesn’t mean you guys are exempt to the whole killing humans for the hell of it category.”

The silence in the colosseum was almost as bad as when they had all been chanting for his death. Dean stared up at the king, ignoring the eyes staring down at him. A dark look passed over the king's face a brief moment. He didn't like that Dean was accusing his people of being capable of the same kind of violence humans were. Tough shit. Then his face smoothed over and he seemed more contemplative. “You bring up some interesting points, but the fact still remains that you killed one of our own. You have been brought to stand here before all in the realm of Avalon, to be judged and sentenced for your crimes. If what you are saying is indeed true and you killed purely in self-defense, then you may also have a choice of indentured servitude or death. If it comes out that you have lied before the king, then you will be faced with death instead!”

Neither options sounded any good. Dean swallowed back the fear that seemed to be trying to overtake the anger he initially felt. “So being a slave or death? Doesn’t sound like much of a choice to me,” he murmured.

“Perhaps you should have thought through the possible consequences of your actions before killing one of fae of this realm,” the king said.

“And I told you! It was self-defense,” Dean snapped, anger finally winning out.

The king ignored Dean’s outburst. Instead, he turned to address the onlookers, “This trial will resume the day after tomorrow at noon. I will be sending my eldest son, Azoroth, to investigate Dean Winchester’s story and see if there is any truth to what he is claiming. In the meantime, you all may go back to your normal routines.” Then he turned to Dean. “You have tonight to make your decision. Please, Jeremiah, escort him back to his cell.”

Dean scowled as the guy from earlier stepped up behind him and reached out to grip his arm. As he turned around to be led out of the colosseum, he didn’t miss the other man watching him from beside the king. The man stood tall and poised, and definitely like he belonged in royalty. His black hair was at just barely past his shoulders, and standing next to the king, Dean could definitely see the family resemblance. But it was his eyes that really caught Dean’s attention. Translucent, gold. A color that no human possessed. Dean looked away.

Jeremiah, that was the guy’s name Dean finally learned, led Dean back to the cell they’d tossed him in before. He glared at the man as he was shoved into the tiny prison. Jeremiah just smirked in response as he slammed the door closed and locked him in. He leaned against the bars and said, “Enjoy the couple nights of freedom, Winchester. Pretty soon you’re going to be either dead or a slave.”

Dean clenched his hands. He looked him up and down. Short brown hair, roughly his dad’s age, carried himself like someone from the military. And definitely not one of those fairies. “You’re human. Why in hell are you working for those assholes?” Dean demanded, raising to his feet. Jeremiah watched him in silence for a moment and it suddenly dawned on Dean. Maybe… “Are you one of those _slaves_?” 

The reaction was instantaneous. Jeremiah’s face twisted to one of disgust and he gripped the bars. “No,” he spat. “Fuck no.” Dean froze, somewhat amazed to get such a reaction. They stared at each other for a moment, before Jeremiah calmed down and his face became blank. “I made a deal,” he said.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he walked a little closer. “What kind of deal?” Deals were never good ideas no matter what supernatural creature you were dealing with.

Jeremiah must have sensed what he was thinking because he snorted, “Nothing like whatever you’re thinking. I serve a couple years as a confident and...transport and they give me a vast amount of wealth in return.”

“Transport?” Dean asked.

Jeremiah looked at him with a smirk. “How do you think you got here?” It started to slowly click. Pieces of his memories started to come back to him. “I nabbed you at the bar. There was another guy with you, but he went to take a leak or something.”

Fuck. He cursed himself for being so careless. He remembered this guy now. He’d been sitting at the corner of the bar, nursing a drink, and every now and then Dean would feel like someone was watching him. Damn it. He should really trust his gut more.

“So you’re saying you’re a fucking sellout,” Dean growled, wishing there weren’t any bars between them. “You kidnap your own kind because some fairy douche said so because you want to be rich?”

Jeremiah just shrugged. “A bit harsh when you put it that way.”

“It’s the truth,” Dean snapped.

Jeremiah stood back. “The truth doesn’t matter. I’m going to be free soon and won’t have to worry about money for the rest of my life, and you? Well, like I said before. You’ll either be dead or a slave. Either one doesn’t sound very pleasant. Anyways, I should probably get going. I’ll see you again in a couple days.” He didn’t give Dean a chance to respond before turning around and leaving.

Dean scowled at the place the guy had just been. He felt like kicking himself. “Damn it,” he grumbled.

He stood there for a moment, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Jeremiah, the fucking sellout prick, was right. Neither options were good, but from the looks of things, it didn’t seem like Dean had much of a choice. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this hellhole without any of his weapons or Sam by his side. His only weapon really was his words, and so far, it bought him another two days. If Sam couldn’t come up with a way to rescue him before judgement day, his chances of getting out of here were looking even more bleak.

He turned around to see the cot in the corner. It looked hard and uncomfortable but it beat sitting on the floor. He sat down and looked down at the floor. If it came down to choosing either death or slavery, it was a no brainer. Death meant a one way ticket down to hell, that much quicker, and he was pretty damn sure if he croaked early, the deal was off and Sam would be dead as a doornail again. There was no way that was even on the table. Dean brought Sam back to life. He couldn’t take that away from his brother. Sam deserved to live. He deserved a chance at a normal life, like he always wanted. Dean, on the other hand, didn’t matter. He never did. He was just a grunt. A tool to help his father on hunts and to raise and protect his little brother.

So yeah, there was no way he’d choose death if it meant killing his brother. On the other hand, if he chose to become a slave, he’d be able to buy more time to find a way out of here.


	5. a curiosity

_NOW_

Dean woke up to the sound of loud voices and footsteps echoing off the walls of the narrow corridors. There was a slight pause, then more chattering and laughter. He groaned as he pushed himself to sit up. His head hurt and his back was sore, despite sleeping on the pillow and blanket. He was rather surprised he had been able to sleep much at all, his mind had been mostly plagued by the trial and the so called choices he was given. Now pressed back against the wall, he was a little more alert than a minute ago, as the voices became closer and louder.

Finally the group came into view. There were four of them. A couple were females, young looking and brash. One had long blond hair, and blue eyes. She was pretty, with fair skin, but looked relatively human. She wore a white cloak that covered parts of her military like attire. There was a small emblem that could barely be seen under the cloak, but Dean could make out what looked like a red rose in the center of it. In her hands was a rather large, carefully crafted bow. Dean raised an eyebrow at the weapon. It was beautiful and impressive in size and he knew the impact of an arrow that was shot from it could be lethal if you knew how to handle it.

The other two, a man and woman, who stood next to her on either side, also looked human and were dressed similarly. Dean felt sick remembering that Jeremiah had made a deal with these monsters. Wealth in exchange for humans. There was no doubt, these guys made similar deals. Maybe not money necessarily. But something like it. Maybe another house, a car, a promotion, who fucking knew. The only thing that mattered was that they were humans and they were selling out other humans for selfish gains and as far as Dean was concerned, that made them all like these fairies. They were just as bad, if not worse, than every monster he ever hunted down.

“So you guys come to see the monkey dance in his little cage?” Dean asked, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

The three humans didn’t say anything for a moment. The blond haired girl exchanged looks with the other two before taking a step back. Dean looked on with interest as the fourth member of the little merry band stepped forward. His eyes widened just a little when he saw the familiar man lean against the bars, his eyes, that unearthly gold, just as intense as yesterday. Up this close, Dean could _really_ see the fae’s unnatural beauty. From his long, black hair that fell freely past his shoulders to his pale, almost ghostly complexion. He wore a silver crown on his head that matched with the long, elegant cloak.

He stared at Dean for a good moment, and Dean found himself fixated by his gaze. He vaguely wondered if this was some kind of mind control that all the fae possessed, because for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to look away. The fairies, despite their archaic ways of doing things so far as Dean had seen, were incredibly beautiful. Most of them at least.

“Dean Winchester,” the fae finally spoke, in a voice that was deep and silky. “My name is Aziel, the youngest son of King Oberon. It is an honor to finally meet you.” Dean watched quietly as the fae gripped the bars of his prison. “Your act yesterday, in front of all of the fae in this realm, has me curious.” He cocked his head to the side slightly as he studied Dean.

Dean stood his ground, willing himself not to squirm under the fae’s scrutiny. There was something dark and dangerous about Aziel but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what. “It wasn’t an act,” he said. “You have to know that everything your ‘people’ are doing are way out of date and messed up.”

“Perhaps,” Aziel said. “Or perhaps it only seems 'messed up' to you because you can’t grasp the full extent of our ways. At least not yet.” Dean wanted to argue but Aziel silenced him with a motion of his hand. “You will learn soon enough though, Dean, if you choose to become a servant to the royal family. And I do hope you choose that path.”

Dean swallowed. There was a glimmer in Aziel’s eyes as he stared back at him. “Why’s that?”

The prince smiled at him. “I already asked my father if I could have you personally. If you become a servant, you will be serving me.”

Dean could feel his heart hammering. “Why _me_? You’re a prince, you could have any other human you want.” It felt gross saying that but it was also true.

“Because, Dean Winchester, you’re a fascination. In all my centuries of living, I’ve never seen a human like you before,” the fae told him. “Be ready for your choice tomorrow. I hope you make the right one.”

Then Aziel and his human guards left. Dean was alone once more.

“Sure wished you’d hurry up and rescue me, Sammy,” Dean murmured, leaning his head against the wall.

_THEN_

Yeah, it was a completely stupid idea. Walking up to something that looked like it stepped out of a B rated horror movie without doing any proper research on what they could be in the first place...wasn’t exactly Dean’s better moments in his hunting career. It was probably worse than the time he split with Sam and walked up to that scarecrow for an up close and personal inspection. At least that had been in broad daylight and he had an inkling of it being connected to a pagan god. But this? Dancing little creepy ass gnomes that had razor sharp teeth and black beady eyes that looked like they could be close cousins with ‘Gremlins’? Fuck, Dean never claimed to be a genius. He wasn’t the one who got a full ride to Stanford.

The only saving grace to this stupid ass plan was the colt that was resting safely inside his jacket. He glanced over at Sam as they walked across the street to the yard. Sam was walking with purpose, his eyes staring straight ahead. _He knows something_ , Dean couldn’t help but think. Dean blinked, wondering why he was pondering his brother’s motives now. But he couldn’t deny Sam had been acting a little weird since they arrived here. 

“Hey, Sam,” he whispered, reaching to touch Sam’s shoulder as his brother moved past him, quickening his pace.

He watched from the edge of the driveway as Sam beelined straight for the nearest gnome. The creature whirled around as soon as it heard the crunching of grass and leaves under Sam’s shoes. Sam lunged himself at it as it giggled and snapped its fingers and suddenly it was gone. Sam cursed, getting up to his knees. The other two seemed to have been alerted to their presence, and they stared at the Winchesters for a moment before running off in opposite directions and disappearing quite literally into the shadows of the house.

Dean stood where he was for a moment, staring at the place one of the creatures had been before it disappeared from sight. “What the fuck are those things?” he asked when he was able to finally make his mouth work again.

Sam sighed, turning to face his brother, just as the porch lights turned on and the door was flung open. Farcher stood at the threshold, staring at them with wide, shocked eyes. “Did you see that? Did that just happen?” he demanded. “I’m not going crazy, am I?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair tiredly as Sam glanced back at him. Dean knew that look. Sam was definitely hiding something. He knew something about this weird case that Dean didn’t. He cleared his throat and looked Farcher directly in the eyes, “Yes, Mister Farcher. That did in fact happen. You’re not going crazy at all. Why don’t you let my partner and I in and _we’ll_ be glad to fill you in on what we think is going on?”

They were led inside, and Dean was given a large mug of nice, hot coffee. He took a careful sip before relaxing back into the soft cushioned armchair. Sam had taken a seat on the large couch next to him, and on the other side, sitting on a hard wooden chair opposite the coffee table was Farcher, still visibly shaken and terrified, wide awake after witnessing the gnome like men disappearing into thin air.

Sam was the only one that didn’t seem surprised. He actually looked annoyed. And Sam’s reaction, just made Dean all the more suspicious. Sam had been really acting weird the last couple weeks and he was hoping tonight’s confession would shed some light on his recent attitude shift.

“So tell the good man what our working theory is, _partner_ ,” Dean said, setting the mug down, watching Sam carefully as he clenched his jaw.

Despite Dean shifting the spotlight on him, Sam did a good job keeping calm under pressure. “Getting straight to the point, aren’t we, Dean?” Sam asked nonchalantly. Dean grit his teeth. They came up with the ridiculous idea to change just their last names for this case, Dean opting for Smith and Sam claiming Wesson. Now that the jig was up, it didn’t matter.

“Yes, Sammy. Please, carry on,” he said.

Sam rolled his eyes and launched into what they knew so far about the case. Since Farcher saw the things disappear, they told him closer to the truth. “We’re not actually FBI agents, Farcher,” Sam confessed. “Dean and I are brothers. We hunt down supernatural creatures before they can cause more terror. You could say it’s the family business.”

Farcher took a moment to digest what he had been told. “So you guys get paid to go around the country to fight these things?”

“Not exactly,” Sam said. “It’s not really a glamorous job. Not many people even know the supernatural is real.”

“Oh,” Farcher said.

“Yeah. But hey, it’s okay. Sometimes we get thanked, and not everything we do is illegal,” Dean said cheerfully. He ignored the glare Sam gave him, and the way Farcher shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

Finally, Farcher asked, “What exactly were those things that were in front of my house tonight?”

Dean looked at Sam pointedly. Sighing, Sam said, “So I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think those things are most likely a type of _fae_.”


	6. Magus, the fae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry this took forever to post. I have no idea how long this chapter has been sitting on the Google docs. Also taking requests for this story on scenes and what not. I am planning on switching POVs, like to Sam, to Dean, to Aziel, etc. So let me know what you like to see more of, what kind of scenes/punishments to put on. Thanks for all the support and I'm sorry for the late post. If I'm gonna be honest, season 15 has been a bit depressing for me, especially where the writers seemed to want to use Dean as a punching bag and I just took a break from writing. I'll be trying to reply to all the comments on the stories I've updated the next few days!

Just as Oberon promised, the trial was resumed the next day. Most of the fae that had been in attendance during the initial trial, were here today. But Dean was pretty sure there were even more in the colosseum now. He was led to the center of the arena by Jeremiah yet again, who took some kind of perverse joy in shoving him through the crowds of onlookers, a mixture of humans and fae alike, and some other creatures Dean couldn’t put a finger on. Like in the previous trial, he was only allowed his boxers, and it fucking sucked ass because it was colder out despite the sun shining brightly down.

He took his spot at the small platform at the center of the colosseum, directly across from the king and his two sons and a couple others that stood just slightly further back. Aziel wore almost the same attire as the previous day when he visited Dean in his cell. His older brother, Azoroth, however was geared in silver plated armor that looked like it belonged to a knight in the medieval age. It suited him though. Matched well with his short, golden hair. The two fae stood proud and straight, next to their father, king Oberon.

“Welcome back, my friends! As promised, the trial of the human hunter, Dean Winchester, will resume today. My son, Azoroth, has come back with someone who may help shed some light on the human’s story that the murder of one of our own was actually an act of self-defense,” the king’s voice boomed out.

Dean swallowed as Azoroth stepped to the side at Oberon’s nod. He couldn’t remember all of the details, but with the drugs finally wearing off, he was starting to get flashbacks to the case that took him and Sam to Indiana. The man who had been practically hidden behind the fae was familiar and Dean nearly gasped as image after image assaulted him.

_“Hello. My name is Whittaker. Wayne Whittaker,” the short, bald man said, sticking out a hand for Dean to shake._

_Dean looked down at it, then back up at him suspiciously, before reaching out and grasping it firmly. “Dean. Dean Winchester, and it seems you already know my brother, Sam.” He eyed Sam who looked perfectly at ease. What the fuck was going on?_

The man, no, _fae_ , judging from his pointy ears didn’t seem the least bit concerned as he took a step forward and met Dean’s gaze for a moment. He winked and Dean curled his fingers. The jackass who Dean caught with his brother in some secret meeting. Fuck. It really was coming back to him now. 

_“So what’s going on?” he asked, looking between the two._

_Whittaker and his brother exchanged a look that Dean couldn’t decipher for the life of him, and that seemed to piss him off even more. What the hell was it with Sam and keeping secrets lately? Weren’t they supposed to be in this together?_

_Dean crossed his arms and stared at Sam. If his brother thought he was going to drop it, he obviously didn’t know Dean as well as he thought. “What?” he asked._

_Sam sighed and said, “Whittaker is helping us with the case.”_

_Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked the man up and down. He didn’t look like anyone special. Bald, short and wearing glasses, the man looked as normal as one could get. “You know much about fae?”_

_Whittaker’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “Actually, I do.”_

Staring at the fae, standing comfortably next to Oberon, Dean could feel his anger rising. They had been tricked. Of course the little shit knew about fae. He fucking was one. 

“My name is Magus,” Whittaker said calmly. “I am happy to serve my king in any way he wishes.”

Oberon frowned. “Yes, well, my son has informed me that you witnessed the ‘attack’ and you are here to vouch for the human?”

Magus nodded as he looked around the large colosseum before falling on Dean. His gaze lingered a little too long. “I had actually been in the midst of conversation with him and his brother when a couple of trolls attacked us.”

“So you know this human?” the king asked.

“I met his brother briefly, beforehand, yes,” Magus said shortly.

Dean tried not to react at the acknowledgment. Of course Magus (“Whittaker”) met with Sam. He remembered this now. Sam had snuck out of their motel earlier in the day, a couple days after the incident with the gnome things (trolls?) at Farcher’s. He had been acting extra edgy since he admitted that he thought they had been dealing with fairies. He left a voice message claiming that he was just grabbing them some quick breakfast and he’d be back before noon. Yeah. Spoiler alert. He didn’t. And the idiot decided to take the Impala. Like Dean wasn’t a paranoid bastard and hadn’t set up some kind of tracking device on it in case she ever got stolen. He didn’t think it’d actually come in handy one day. And especially against his kid brother.

He tracked them to the back of an old closed gas station on the edge of town. Not shady in the least.

“You are willing to put your life on the line for him?” Oberon continued.

Magus didn’t even hesitate as he nodded, still looking Dean straight in the eyes. Dean swallowed. There was something there, something dark and haunting that kind of unnerved him. “Yes, my king,” he said softly. “I put my life on the line for this human.”

The colosseum seemed to look on in hushed disbelief, and for a moment, in the quiet, Dean felt oddly special. He could feel all eyes on him again. It was like nothing like this had ever happened before, and it begged the question, just how many humans were actually spared in these types of trials. He honestly didn’t want to know the answer to that. 

“Very well then,” Oberon said. “I will make my decision with the royal court. For now, you are all dismissed.” He waved his hands to motion for the crowd to disperse. 

It took probably close to ten minutes for the onlookers to all leave. Dean stood awkwardly in the center of the nearly empty arena. He looked around for Jeremiah but couldn’t find him anywhere. What the hell?

Once everyone left, Oberon turned his attention to Dean. His eyes were narrowed. “Dean Winchester! Come here.”

“What? Why?” Dean blurted out, hesitating to take a step forward. Did the king want to back out of the deal and just kill him anyway?

Oberon raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to challenge the king of the fae, _human_?”

Dean swallowed. _Pick your battles wisely, Winchester._ Was this really the hill he was going to choose to die on? He sighed and said, “Of course not.”

“You seem to be forgetting something at the end of your sentence, human,” Oberon said calmly watching with some hint of amusement as Dean blinked, then scowled as he realized what the king was talking about.

“Of course not, king,” Dean spat out as he slowly walked up to the platform. 

Oberon didn’t bother to correct him. He seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much as Dean stomped up the stairs. When he stood before Oberon, the king pointed to the spot next to Aziel and said, “Kneel, human.”

Dean glanced from the king to the prince, then back again. Both sons were watching with interest. Even Magus who Dean just realized hadn’t been dismissed had turned to see what was going on. Feeling slightly humiliated but not finding any other choice, Dean slowly fell to one knee. He looked up to see Oberon smile down at him. “Have you made your choice then, Dean Winchester?”

Fuck. Dean hesitated for a second, licking his lips nervously. “I thought you were going to talk to the royal court before you had me choose.”

“I already did,” Oberon said dismissively. “Now do you choose a swift death or life as a servant to the royal family?”

Crap. Crap. Crap. “Uh, don’t you think both of those choices are a bit extreme?” Dean asked, stalling now, as he glanced back between the fae. _Come on, Sammy. Where the fuck are you?_

“I think it is fair. You did kill one of our own, troll or not,” Oberon said.

“Yeah but I told you already. It was in self defense! And I even got one of your own to vouch for me. We were attacked first,” Dean exclaimed.

“Yes. Which is peculiar on its own. Fae very rarely attack unprovoked,” Oberon mused. “But the killing of a fae, even in an act of self defense, has always been the biggest crime one can commit. I cannot make any exceptions, especially for one little human. Now please stop wasting all of our time and make your decision.”

Dean cursed internally. Jig was up. _Sorry, Sammy, guess I’m just gonna have to find my own way out._ “Fine, fine.” He cleared his throat. Fuck. He was going to really have to do this. Rubbing the side of his face, he took in a deep breath and released it. “I’ll be a servant I guess.”

The grin that spread on the king’s face showed that the choice Dean made was unsurprising. “Wonderful,” Oberon said, clapping his hands together. “You have made the wise choice. I trust that my son has already told you that while you will be serving the royal family, you will be mainly serving under him?” He clasped a hand on Aziel’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

Oberon narrowed his eyes. “‘Yes, my king,’” he corrected.

“Seriously?” Dean asked. “I’m not saying that.”

As fast as lightning, the king’s hand reached out to grasp Dean’s hair painfully. Dean gritted his teeth as Oberon hauled him to his feet none too gently. “Perhaps for your first lesson, you will be taught respect,” he hissed, cold eyes staring into Dean for a moment, before dropping him. Dean fell and landed on his ass in surprise.

He swallowed as he tracked the king’s movements carefully, a little nervous to what Oberon might have in store for him. Him and his stupid mouth. He really needed to learn when to shut up. _Don’t you have just a little self-preservation, Winchester?_

“You will be fine,” came the familiar silky voice. Dean looked up to see the younger fae prince, Aziel reaching a hand to help him up. Dean stared at the hand suspiciously, but Aziel just stood there, peering curiously down at him. “My father will go easy on you. It is only your first offense after all.”

“Yeah. Only my first,” Dean mumbled as he took the fae’s hand and let him help him back up. He noticed that Aziel’s hand was fairly warm. Dean waited a moment for the prince to let go, but he didn’t. Slightly annoyed, he tried to pry his hand loose but damn, the fae was stronger than he looked, or Dean was just that weak. Glaring, Dean grumbled, “You can let me go now.”

Aziel seemed to ignore him, pulling Dean close enough to rest his head on his shoulder. Dean stiffened at the contact. “You did make the right choice though, Dean.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Dean snapped. _It was either this or die._

Aziel pulled back, a smile curling his lips, “You always have a choice.”


	7. not so black and white

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I'm late on an update for this. It's a bit shorter than the rest. I'm really sorry about this. This is more just a little bit of Dean's inner turmoil coming out to play. Also yes I am randomfills/spnfanatic. This is my other account for Dean/other pairings so that's why this story is getting kind of moved over here! Originally I made deanwstories so that I didn't constantly put more incomplete stories on there but well...guess it doesn't really matter where I post the stories. Anyways this is just a bit more of a tease/getting to know more about the fae characters. I don't like making my own characters up because I don't think I'm very good at it but more practice is a good thing, right? Thank you for reading!

“ _You always have a choice_.”

Something about the way the fae said that line didn’t really sit well with Dean. _No, I didn’t have a choice, you asshole. Death or slavery aren’t choices_ , Dean thought bitterly. Just like when he made a deal with a demon to save Sam. That wasn’t a choice either. That was just the right thing to do, the _only_ thing Dean knew how to do. 

_Watch out for Sammy, ya hear, Dean_? John Winchester’s voice rang through his mind, clear as day. _Yessir_ , Dean would always say to his dad. Sam was his little brother and responsibility, he always came first, no matter what.

 _I’m doing this for Sam_ , he chanted in his head. _Because if I die, here and now, the deal’s off, right?_

“So, what now?” he asked out loud, trying to keep his anger from showing on his face. He was probably doing a pretty piss poor job with the way the fae was watching him in barely contained amusement, but fuck, it wasn’t like Dean could help it. He was having one really shitty week in a very craptastic year. Way to go out with a bang, Winchester. This is how you’re gonna spend your last few months on earth, huh?

“Now you follow us to your new home,” Aziel said. 

Dean knew he didn’t have a choice but to follow Oberon and Aziel as they started to walk to the back. _You’re nothing but a good little soldier, Dean_ , Sam’s voice echoed in his head. Dean clenched his hands and tried his best to ignore his brother’s snide voice, _Don’t even have a mind of your own, do you?_ That wasn’t true. Sam knew it back when he said it when he was being mind fucked by the good doctor, and it hurt back then when he said it, made Dean angry and maybe a little unsure of himself. _This is really not a good time for more of your self-loathing, Winchester_ , he chastised himself. _Get it together._

If Sam wasn’t here to save Dean...then he had to rely on himself to get out of this mess.

The fae led him through another dark tunnel and Dean had to wonder how much of the passageways were underground. It was a little unnerving walking through the dimly lit, narrow tunnels, their footsteps echoing off the walls. “So I gotta ask,” Dean said after a moment, “how much of this place is underground?”

“Not as much as you’re thinking,” Aziel replied. “The fae in this realm like to live out in the open but when we made the colosseum, the elders decided it was best to separate the way royalty and the rest of fae entered and exited. These tunnels connect from the colosseum to the palace.”

“Huh,” Dean said, trying to process the information. The tunnels could be key to his escape later on.

“Of course, there are probably hundreds of tunnels connected to each other, and it could take days, perhaps even weeks, to find your way out if you don’t know how to navigate through here,” Oberon added, glancing back to Dean with a knowing look. “These connect down to the dungeons as well, where we keep the more dangerous...creatures, things that could overwhelm even some of my fiercely trained men. No doubt they could easily rip a human like you to shreds if given the chance so if you’re thinking of using these tunnels to plan an escape, I wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean grumbled. Why the fuck would they be keeping monsters down here? “Look, so, I gotta know something else. Why me? Why are you so hellbent on taking me on as a slave? You’re a king and a prince. I know I’ve only been here for a couple days but dude, you can pick any human to be your whore, so why the fuck did you pick me?” Holy shit, Dean really had no clue when the fuck to shut up. _Wow, Winchester, maybe I’m going to Hell early. Really hope that doesn’t go against the deal._

To Dean’s surprise, instead of getting angry like he thought, the king just laughed. His son, Aziel, soon joined him with his own little chuckle. What the fuck? It wasn’t funny. It was a serious question. “We didn’t choose anything,” Oberon said. “You chose this life. You chose servitude, Dean Winchester.”

Dean stopped and narrowed his eyes. The fae both stopped as well and turned to face him. “I didn’t choose this,” Dean insisted. He could feel his anger flaring. “ _You_ rigged this so that there wasn’t a choice. Who the hell in their right mind would want to be a slave for the rest of their life? You’re taking away people’s free will, man. Can’t you see what you’re doing is wrong? Fae or not, human or not. This is messed up on so many freaking levels.” Dean hadn’t realized he was nearly shouting by the end of his rant. He was angry, thinking back to the cell that held the boy with the raggedy clothes and the empty eyes, the boy who looked so much like Sammy it pained Dean to imagine it really was his brother in there. What if Sammy had been taken here instead of Dean? What if Sammy was the one who killed a fae in self-defence, because it was coming at them, and on reflex, he shot it as it sprung out to tackle him, its eyes red and mouth open with sharp daggers for teeth. 

Dean knew he’d go out of his mind if it was Sam who had come here instead of him. He wondered not for the first time what his brother was up to right now, if he suspected Dean was taken now that he hadn’t shown back at the motel in a couple days. Didn’t leave a text or a phone call. Sam had to be missing him by now.

Aziel’s eyes seemed to darken as he stared back at the hunter. The fae took a step toward him and Dean instinctively took a step back. His back pressed against the wall. Dammit. “You think you can just come waltzing in here, a little human like you, with blood dripping from your hands, the same ones that murdered one of my own, and proceed to tell us that we are in the wrong? Hm, Dean Winchester?” The fae glowed menacingly in the light and Dean could feel the tunnel start to heat up. He swallowed nervously. What was going on? Aziel slammed a hand against the wall just by the hunter’s head. Dean flinched at the sudden, jarring movement. “You think you’re justified to act high and mighty while murdering things that are not human without getting to know what they’re like, even when they don’t kill, even when they’re just trying to live their lives as best they can. What gives you the right to judge? What gives humans the right to live in this universe while the rest of us, monsters, have to run and hide?”

For once, Dean had no answer.


	8. a hunter's life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically part of last chapter.

Growing up in the hunting life, Dean was taught that _monsters_ , no matter how much they looked like humans, didn’t deserve the chance to be understood. John Winchester had a one track mind when it came to hunting. Whatever killed his wife, Sam and Dean’s mom, was to be put down, no matter the cost. It didn’t matter if the thing had a family of its own. He never stopped to consider what it was like on the other side, walking those shoes. It would get a shot in the head all the same. Dean knew deep down, that though John Winchester was a hero who saved people from human eating monsters, that his father was still just a human, with good parts and bad parts, just like everyone else. 

Maybe when he was a kid, he thought the world of his father, thought he was doing the right thing every time he shot a werewolf, never considering that, that werewolf used to be a person too, used to be just a little boy or a little girl with a family, maybe a sibling, with hopes and dreams until they got bitten by a monster and was doomed for the rest of their life to shift into a monstrous thing with fur and fangs and sharp claws every full moon. Maybe when he was little, he thought his father hung the damn moon. 

Contrary to what Sam always thought of his brother, the worst probably, a hunter who hungered to kill whatever was in his way, the good little soldier who never stopped a damn moment to think about the consequences of his actions, who never was conflicted that he might be killing some guy who had a wife and kids, or even worse, a monster kid who might grow up to be a Sammy, who just wanted to go to school and live his own dreams of being a lawyer and owning a house and dog. 

Contrary to all the shit his brother thought Dean capable of, contrary to all the shit this fae, royalty or not, thought of Dean, being just a human, inferior and incapable to realize that taking away free will of any living creature was all kinds of messed up...Dean knew better. He might not be as great of a hunter like his dad. He might not be as smart or speculative as his brother. He might not be good enough to these holier than thou fairies. But Dean knew right and wrong, and he cared, he cared a lot (maybe too much). 

Dean was still angry but he knew that he was walking on thin ice. He was far away from Sam and he was weaponless, his hands were still tied behind his back, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t eaten in a couple days now. There was no way he could fight a couple of amped up monsters. Even at full capacity, equipped with silver, Dean still wasn’t sure if he could take on Oberon or his son, Aziel. In the dimly lit tunnels, the fairy’s eyes seemed to glow an unearthly gold. 

_Don’t say more shit you’re gonna regret_ , he told himself. Yeah, he was going to Hell eventually, nothing he could fucking do about that, but why take that trip down under before his time was up? Besides, he still wasn’t sure if checking out early could be considered as an attempt to weasel out of the deal. Who the fuck knew with these damn demons? They’d probably find it amusing having Dean’s soul on the chopping block early and realize they could have Sammy’s as well because Dean freaking Winchester was a screw up. _No, fuck no, Winchester, Sammy’s life depends on how you act, if you gotta play the good, little obedient soldier to a bunch of crappy self righteous fairies, then so be it._

He could almost hear his father’s voice whisper, “Fucking man up, Dean. You’re doing this for your brother, aren’t you? Don’t you screw up the one job I gave you. Don’t you disappoint me more than you already have.”

“Look, I’m not going to apologize for how I feel. Nothing you guys do to me will change my mind, but I am sorry that me saying it out loud pissed you off so damn much, so go on. Do what you have to do to me,” Dean said, bracing himself for the impact of a punch. _Suicide, yep, this was definitely suicide._ He squeezed his eyes closed and counted to ten in his head. 

-

_Five days ago in Fortville, Indiana  
Room 3 in a little motel_

Desperation made people do some shady, shitty things that they otherwise never would have considered, like stealing money or food just to get by, taking drugs to feel less shitty about what life was tossing at you, making deals to save a person you care about from going to Hell. Sam never thought he’d ever be one of those desperate people who turned to doing something shitty like lying behind his brother’s back about having no idea what could be causing all the crazy shitstorm in a little town like Fortville or making a deal with a fairy to counteract a deal with a demon. 

For weeks now Sam had been going behind his brother’s back, researching all kinds of ways to keep Dean from going to Hell. Yeah, Dean might be a pain in the ass, overprotective and overbearing to the point that Sam thought he’d pull his own hair out, but he was family. He’d always be family. And Dean was going to Hell because he thought he could protect Sam from anything and everything, including death. So in essence, this whole damn mess was because of Sam, and if there was a way for him to fix it, damn right he was going to bargain with the next best thing if he couldn’t do it with a demon. Almost every lore, which was barely anything, said that fairies had the kind of power to grant the person a wish of his deepest desire, whether it was fame or wealth, even preventing someone from dying. If Dean couldn’t die, he obviously couldn’t go down to the Pit. 

It was freaking perfect. 

A little too perfect, but again, Sam was running out of time and therefore options. 

Ruby hadn’t shown up in weeks, even when he tried calling her a dozen times. It would just go to voicemail and honestly, Sam was getting a bit tired of leaving one pitiful message after another, begging, pleading for her to come back and save his brother. And of course there was no way Dean would ever be onboard with trying to save himself, he made it perfectly clear that if the demons found out he was trying to weasel his way out of it, Sam would just drop dead where he stood. While he wouldn’t mind being dead again as long as Dean wasn’t going to go to Hell, he knew that his brother wouldn’t approve of them driving all the way to Indiana if he knew Sam’s true motives.

Sam was well and truly alone in this.

Well...if they somehow managed to pull this off successfully, and Dean made it the rest of the months from being a hellhound chew toy, he would happily endure whatever Dean decided to dish out. Everything would be worth it in the end.


End file.
